One Month On The Road

Martin, Case and Keith head out.....

Well time fly’s when your riding a bike...

It’s exactly one month today from when I pedalled out of the Holiday Inn in Newport News VA to head to the start of the Trans Am at Yorktown.

It seems like a lifetime ago, so much has happened, I’ve seen so many beautiful places and met some amazing people.

We’re a third of the way across now and Kansas is looming, we are hoping for tale winds as head winds will make this leg torture. We have met a few east bounders who have suffered this and the pain showed on their faces! There are five of us cycling together now so maybe a pelaton approach may help us cut through the wind a bit better!

I’m way passed the point where I feel I could give up, only a mechanical or physical problem will stop me now, in fact I don’t think I’ve ever doubted my ability to do this, it’s possibly just the fear of the unknown that makes you doubt yourself.

Off out into a rainy days ride now (there rare!). Thanks for following my blog, I’ll keep it updated as best I can.

Best wishes to all…….

Masonic Lodgings

After breaking camp early from the front lawn of the Hartville Court House we wandered over to Subway for their “Footlong” breakfast special, ideal fodder for a long distance cyclist!

Keith the early bird had already got a head start on the flying Dutchmen as they stayed and had breakfast with us before pedalling off up the steep hill out of town. Me and Tony downed our second coffee (free refills in the US!) and were just about to leave when the heavens opened. A quick check of weather.com showed some big storms crossing our path so we sat tight and surfed for a while whilst watching the Main Street turn into a river!

Eventually after a few hours in Subway we ventured out and got going. In the rain and humidity a waterproof jacket is pretty much a waste of time as your soon soaked through from sweat. After an hour things got a bit brighter and our day was spent getting wet and drying out in numerous downpours.

During one downpour I was flying along the road to Marshfield MO when a pick up pulled up close alongside me, the window came down and a local in a baseball cap and dungarees sporting the best strap beard I’ve ever seen, lent over his sons lap and yelled, “Wherz ya fram”, I gave him the usual spiel whilst trying to avoid going off the road. “Jeez, you and your buddy are plain crazy, best a luck ya hear”. I was left wobbling in his V8 exhaust smoke as he disappeared around the bend.

Our lunch stop at “Freda’s Up Town Cafe” in Marshfield MO found me sampling a new delight from the US, Key Lime Pie, mmmmmm. To top that after a bit of marketing consultancy on getting the cycling crowd into her Cafe, Freda gave us the pies on the house. Her Cafe is well worth a stop if your cycling through.

The weather got better by the afternoon, but we had another one of those days when accommodation options just don’t fall right. Camping at 40 miles or 76 miles were our options! We decided to push for the 76, but even with a Monster caffeine juice drink in me I was fading in the afternoon sun, then a slow puncture kicked in. We were 8 miles from our destination at the small town of Walnut Grove MO and our maps listed basic services but no accommodation, we pulled up at the cross roads to try and come up with a cunning plan.

As luck would have it the local Missouri Law Enforcement Department had one of it’s smart Interceptor cars sat in a drive way running a radar trap. We cycled over to the rotund officer sat in the car, who looked like he  had been concentrating more on eating donuts than ticketing speeding motorists. “Anywhere to camp in town officer” Tony enquired, “Well I know they occasionally let cyclists camp over there in the park”. At that point a car pulled up blocking the path of the radar gun, “That’s the Mayor ask him” exclaimed the Police officer.

The Mayor explained that the local Masonic Lodge were hosting a Bluegrass festival in the park the next day and we were more than welcome to camp there overnight. We rode round to the park and were immediately set upon by a large group of inquisitive local Masons, they were a great bunch of guys and we were chatting with them for ages. The Mayor pulled up in his pick up chewing tobacco and explained that he had allowed us to camp and that if any local turds (youth) showed up causing trouble we had his permission to give them a good kicking! Now that's how a town should be run!!

So we now found ourselves acting as Masonic Site Security Services for the Walnut Grove 2010 “Pickin In The Park” Bluegrass Festival in exchange for the use of their pavilion and rest room.

As the last of the Masons headed home one came over and said “We’ll be back for a big cooked breakfast at 8 in the morning and we’d like to invite you boys to join us”……

This morning I woke up on a Courthouse lawn 60 miles away, now I’m sat courtesy of the local Mayor and Masonic Lodge at a picnic table in the town park in Walnut Grove MO, lightning bugs are flitting around, a cool breeze is blowing and the sunset was amazing, we’ve got a free place to camp, free breakfast and have been chatting with a great bunch of old timers……… You just can’t make this stuff up…….!!!

To top that we even managed to get connected to a local WiFi network……

Night all……….. ah hang on!!!

Just heard the most amazing noise way off in the distance, a pack of Coyotes started howling, really eerie! Tony said that all the dogs in the town will kick off now…… right on queue they did, a canine uproar that’s still going on.

Pies at Cookies in Golden City

Our breakfast with the Masons meant a late getaway from Walnut Grove it was worth it though, the biscuits (bit like scones!), bacon, scrambled egg and gravy really set us up for the day and the banter with the Mayor and the Masons was great. A real nice bunch of blokes.

I took a wrong turn coming into Everton MO and quickly got back on track to find Tony coming back to look for me. He had been held up by a carnival precession in Everton MO with classic cars, floats, horse riders etc. Gutted I had missed it we decided to follow it for a few blocks and ended up being the final attraction in the parade, waving to a few of the crowd and joking with them in my royal English accent got us some laughs and offers of beer.

After a long day in the saddle fighting head winds and dealing with the last of Missouri’s hills we eventually got into Golden City MO and headed straight for Cookies, the legendary diner that sells the best pies on the Trans Am. I went for the blueberry crumble pie and it was scrumptious. One of the joys of cycle touring is that you can eat pretty much what you want and still lose weight, although with the intense heat I tend to crave liquids more than solids!

Whilst eating our pie a cyclist with a vague Iggy Popishness about him appeared right in front of us, he immediately introduced himself to us and even new our names. It was Steve, Keith’s mate from Springfield, who had saved the day by picking up Maarten, Kees and Keith the previous afternoon to get some urgent repairs done on Maarten’s bike. He had dropped them back on route and him and his lovely lady Ellen had joined them for a day on their super fast racing bikes. It was great to see the gang again and hear about all that had happened to them in the previous 24 hours.

We had a relaxed evening at Golden Cities park, camping under their pavilion and woke to enjoy our last day in Missouri, which wasn’t to be without incident……..

More new photos on Flickr …

The Cycling Circus Is In Town!

A Cookies breakfast devoured, we were ready to go by 7.45am, the street through this small town ran east to west and it just went on dead straight and flat as far as the eye could see in both directions.

As we headed out westwards we quickly left the city limits and with little traffic and a strong wind coming from the 11o’clock position we decided to initiate our peloton plan. One rider would sit on the centre line of the road the other four would position themselves in a staggered formation evenly spaced to the roads shoulder. It took a bit of concentration but made cutting through the wind far easier with only the lead man taking the hit of the wind whilst the rest required much less effort to pedal. With the front man dropping to the back every few miles and the pack rotating we felt like the Red Arrows air display team.

We had been given the heads up on an 8 mile diversion due to bridge construction, as it was Sunday we ignored the road closed signs and managed to get through with no problems.

Further on I could see Kees was struggling and I asked him if he was OK, he said no, holding his stomach he continued until we had our next stop and then almost fainted by the side of the road. We took him over to an abandoned store and sat him under the porch.

We dosed him up with various pills but after another failed attempt to cycle he had to rest in the shade. Maarten insisted we carry on and he would wait with his Dad. Reluctantly we headed on to Pittsburg KS but not before I managed to snap my seat clamp bolt, luckily Keith had a spare.

5 miles from Pittsburg KS on the Kansas border we were getting drinks at a gas station when two East Bounders saw us and pulled in. We chatted for ages about the routes in either direction; they had come from San Francisco on the Western Express route through the Nevada desert before linking up with the Trans Am.

We got into Pittsburg KS at lunchtime and found Harry’s Cafe, a real classic old American Diner, an ideal place to celebrate our arrival into our fifth state, Kansas.Whilst cueing to pay my bill on the way out, the little old lady on the cash desk seemed to be having trouble with a new fandangled computerised till. She methodically typed in each item off the bill and without looking up read out the price in individual digits. As my turn approached she typed in my bill and read out six, six, six; I searched in my wallet for $6.66 and noticed her take a quick look at me; she sheepishly looked up again and smiled at me, “I was just seein if ya got horns”. Classic comedy timing!

There were a few options for accommodation that night so we rang the Lutheran Church but no one was in, bit weird for a Sunday, we pressed on hoping we’d meet the pastor at the church but there was no one there. We checked the church, which reminded me of the church in the Blues brothers, I would have loved to have done a back flip down the aisle!! Even the Community Centre at the back was open but empty, so we topped up our water bottles and I left a donation…!
 
We had another option, seven or so miles on; the town of Walnut, we decided to go there instead (bad move!).
 

Five miles from Walnut a smart black Dodge Charger pulled up and the bearded driver in his 60’s shouted out to us, “There’s a storm a commin in an hour, get yourself to Walnut”. He disappeared fast off down the straight road. As we are now in “Tornado Alley” advice about storms has to be taken seriously. With this in mind Lance Armstrong would have struggled to keep up with us into Walnut…
Keith got directions to the park and we hoped there would be a sturdy pavilion in there  in which to sit out the storm.
Usually the parks we stay at are immaculate and places of civic pride, Walnut’s was an overgrown mess with no pavilion, filthy toilets with branches pushed down them and no water. With a long ride and a risk of being hit by a storm, we had no options but to pitch our tents and hope for the best.

As luck would have it, the gentleman who Keith had asked directions from was renovating a Gas Station into a Fire Station and drove round to offer us the building for the night. Apart from being a bit dusty and greasy it was a roof over our heads and protection from the savage storm that eventually hit in the early hours.
We rolled up the shutter doors and spread cloths lines across the openings and got our stoves fired fired up ; before long word had spread around town about us and cars, atv’s, Harley’s and pickup’s where cruising by….

The Cycling Circus Is in Town!!                                                            

Eureka – My Parasite Pet & The Vietnam Vet

Cyril the Tick!

We left the Safari Inn Motel, Keith got a head start as usual and rode ahead, the weather was great, cool no rain a few hills but mostly flat.

After an hour or so we arrived at Lenny’s Gas Station, he has run it for 45 years and has seen all the cyclists go by since 1976 when the Trans Am started. We grabbed a coffee and chatted with him for a while; it amazed me that this guy had run his grubby little gas station for 45 years on a cross roads miles from anywhere, but being his own boss he seemed more than happy with his lot.

As we left Lenny’s two Brits heading east on the Trans Am\ Western Express came along. They were the first Brits I had met on the whole journey, it was good to have a chat in the Queens English! As usual we swapped tips on the route we had travelled and what were the best places to stay \ eat. The older of the two guys father lived in Budleigh Salterton, a town near me and we chatted in the heat dreaming about ice cream from the Creamery, a great ice cream shop.

There were only a few options for rest stops today so we carried plenty of water. Arriving in Toronto KS we stopped at the Market Deli, as we saw two bikes outside. They belonged to Carol and David, a fit older American couple doing the trans am and staying in hotels on route, luxury, I’m not jealous! We stopped and had lunch and chatted with them, Keith had left 5 minutes before.

Don, who owns the Market Deli in Toronto KS and is the spitting image of Dennis Hopper in Apocalypse Now, had the usual Stu marketing advice spiel. His location half way along a 60 mile stretch with no other services, makes his recently purchased business a great Trans Am stop in both directions. I recommended a Trans Am cyclists welcome sign, free popsicles and water bottle fill ups, his sandwiches were great, he could be on to a winner and seemed really grateful for the info.

We met Carol and David again resting on the long Highway 54 to Eureka, her strange handlebar set up was she ensured us very comfortable but made her look like Mary Poppins.

All the way along Highway 54 we were passed by East bound RAAM (Race Across America) riders with their support buses and sag wagons, they waved to us and the crews yelled out and some shouted through their vehicle tannoys. They ride a different route to us and are the jet fighter equivalent to our heavy bombers!
Eventually we arrived at Eureka and joy of joys it was the first City Park with a swimming pool and to top that most of Kansas’s parks have pools and Trans Amers get to use them for free! Keith and I decided to take a dip after using the showers to wash that days cycling kit!

Whilst bobbing around in the pool a young girl started chatting to us, she was only around 12 but her life sounded hellish, with constant domestic violence she was having to spend most of her life living with her Aunty. As I turned to swim off she said there is something on your back, I asked Keith to look, his face said it all, there was something on my back that wasn’t nice! Keith said he thought it was a tick and it was the size of my little fingernail!

We got a nearby builder to look and he gave us a cigarette to try and burn it off, this didn’t work so I decided to go to the hospital as ticks can carry a host of nasty diseases.

I cycled up to the A&E department at Eureka hospital and was put in room with 71 year old vietnam \ korean war marine vet, who looked like a skinny alcoholic Grizzly Adams.  He started gobbing off to a young nurse, “I’m an American Marine, I need effing treating now”, she told him off, but he still carried on being abusive. I decided to have a word with him about his attitude, my accent spooked him a bit and he asked “Wherez ya from” in his slurred gruff Kansas accent. “England"… never been there, heard it’s a mighty fine place though!”

He then gave me a graphic insight into his infected catheter and how much his knob hurt! I asked him about Vietnam and Korea. “I don’t talk about nam, real bad shit out there” he replied.

I told him my late father was a Royal Marine Commando in Korea. He went very quiet and muttered “Those Royal Marine Commandoes were crazy bastards” and shook his head. That line was enough to calm the drunken war veteran down and we ended up chatting and he was so full of respect, that I was the son of a Royal Marine Commando. He took my card and after the nurses had removed his catheter with, I guess, an extra hard tug, his helper appeared to drive him back home.

As he left the ward staggering from wall to wall he promised to email me loads of pornography, I said I would prefer a donation to ShelterBox!

Well I think the Doctor and nurses were impressed I had shut him up, he’s a regular trouble maker apparently.

My huge Tick was removed, the biggest the Doctor had seen, he reckoned it had been feeding on me for over a week. I’ve been prescribed antibiotics to deal with Lymes Disease and Rocky Mountain Fever. The nurse and doctor were great fun and really interested in the trip.

They presented me with my tick in a pot bathing in formaldehyde, he’s been christened Cyril and his finishing the Trans Am with me…..

Storm Pedalers

We left Scott City in Kansas this morning and fought with the winds to complete a relatively short ride of 50 odd miles to Tribune KS, close to the Colorado border. As I got around 15 miles from Tribune a storm started to grow over to the South West, it looked really ominous and I kept seeing what I thought were twisters forming. Tony had already made it to Tribune so I was alone on the highway. This is my Trans Am TV report from the highway! ( For best quality click on the 360p button and change it to 720p HD and give it time to load or watch directly on YouTube ) . Text continues below video.....

Since then we've had, storm force winds, dust storms, rain and lightning, we've also got a Tornado warning in force for this town! To top that were sleeping in the park under the band stand!!!

Caption Competition !

I just took this picture outside the Diner in Eads Colorado. Thought some of you wise cracks may be able to come up with some humorous captions. Add them by posting a comment below.

The winner will receive a pair of my used cycling socks!!

Crossing The Wild West

There is a technique to crossing Kansas, get up early and hope you get a tail wind, then cover as many miles as possible! Not very scientific I know, but with temperatures around 100 degrees, Tornado warnings, winds that can give you a 100 mile day or a 40 mile day, depending on their direction and this year as an added attraction, unprecedented flooding, your guaranteed an interesting ride!

Kansas has a beauty all of it’s own, it’s a vast expanse of flatness broken into a grid system of roads running North, South, East and West, some gravel, some tarmac. Each of the grid squares seem to have either corn, wheat or cattle in them. That is of course a very simplified description but it gives you an idea of what this State is like. Have a look at the Google Earth screen grab below and you’ll see what I mean. We’ve been following pretty much an East West route across the state with a large part of it on Highway 96.

With the wheat harvest about to start we have crossed the Prairie just in time, as traffic will increase massively over the coming weeks, with huge trucks hauling combine harvesters to the next area that needs harvesting. So It’s all hands on deck for the prairie community, every diner, bar and gas station we’ve been in is buzzing with harvest talk; even the kids get involved with teenagers driving long shifts in fleets of combines.

We have already experienced many escorted wide loads hauling farm machinery and silo’s looking like sections of moon rocket. They give us little room and bailing out onto the verge is sometimes the only option. A huge MAC truck bearing down on you from behind sounds like a Tie Fighter attacking and is probably as scary, luckily the force has been strong with us; although Keith did get hit by a car and is now carrying it’s broken wing mirror as a memento!

As usual we have met some great people on our journey, one in particular springs to mind. Don the retired 75 year old Wichita Fire Captain, who we met out on NE Flinthills Road as we headed towards Cassoday. He was coming towards us at a fare speed and circled in the road to join us, after brief introductions he told us he was out on his favourite day ride but had done the western part of the trans am on a tandem with his wife some years ago. His wrap around shades, crash helmet, cycling shorts and muscular physique hid from us an elderly gent suffering from Parkinsons for three years. He told us he was fully aware of what the disease had in store for him, but was determined to carry on cycling in order to fight the disease and the side effects it brings.

He kept at our pace and chatted away about cycling and his time in the Fire Service and the Forces, as we got near Cassoday he invited us to join him for lunch at the Cassoday Country Store eat all you want homemade buffet. As we entered the store the locals immediately started bantering with him and we could tell he was well respected and well known. Lunch went down a storm, home fried chicken (forget KFC!), mash and many other sides, but the dessert took the crown, Rhubarb Cobbler with home made ice cream out of an iced barrel.

Don told us tales of the Trans Am, including the eye watering story of how he almost had to give up in the Rockies as a haemorrhoid meant he couldn’t sit on his bike seat. He explained how he remedied this with a DIY amputation using a razor blade. I whinced as I tucked into the last mouthful of my cobbler; this man was a Kansas cycling hero that we had had the pleasure of riding and lunching with. A really inspirational guy battling with a terrible disease.

Other characters we met on this leg of the journey included Bev and Chuck who run the Peace Creek Hostel near the Quivira National Wildlife Refuge, west of Nickerson KS. They open their doors to cyclists, cook you a meal, let you use their facilities and pitch your tent in their front garden, purely for a voluntary contribution. Getting to the hostel, 5 miles off route at the end of an wind blown 85 mile day was a challenge. Being the only house for miles and tucked away down a track, I ended up using Indian style tracking techniques to find tyre prints of the faster cyclists ahead. Passing through a wildlife reserve also bought with it beauty and danger, birds of prey circled above and deer wandered across the road in front of me as I battled immense head winds moving at only five miles an hour.

At one point a large snake slid between my wheels, the resulting dismount from my bike would have won Olympic gymnastic gold and put Olga Korbut out of medal contention. I unclipped both feet simultaneously, pushed on the bars and lifted myself in to the air turning 180 degrees in the process and still holding onto my bike at arms length as it ground to a halt. I hadn’t seen where the snake had gone so I carefully examined my rear panniers to ensure it wasn’t hiding in my luggage! I eventually made it to the hostel and caught up with the other guys.

I also saw my first cowboy in Kansas, rounding up cattle, wearing a Stetson, spurs and carrying a lasso, it was a real time warp image, one that captivated me so much I forgot to get a photo!

My scariest moment in Kansas was captured on video as part of my previous Blog. Cycling towards Tribune I watched a storm start to develop and the more it grew and the stranger the clouds appeared the more I thought I was about to see a Twister emerge. A few miles out from town whilst filming the storm two locals stopped and offered to turn round and drop me into town. I decided to ride it, determined nothing would stop me riding all the way across America, those last few miles were the fastest of my trip so far and I was glad of the cover the Gas Station offered as a storm of biblical proportions rolled in for the night!

There was a sad end to our Kansas leg when Maarten and Kees, our Dutch cycling companions caught up with us, but unfortunately they were in a hire car. Kees had suffered bad dehydration and had been on a drip in hospital, they tried to carry on but he was to ill. After much deliberation they decide to finish their US trip by car and see some of the sites, before flying home from San Francisco. I’m totally gutted for both of them, a great father and son team who were an absolute pleasure to cycle with and great proponents of sarcastic wit, something I’m slowly training Tony in!

Kansas was generous to us on our last morning in the state, almost a Mickey take, in that it showed us what difference a strong tail wind can make and blew us at speed into Colorado!

The Rockies On The Horizon

Crossing into Colorado from Kansas initially offers little respite from the flat monotony of the prairie, but slowly it starts to take on it’s own unique character.

Highway 96, which carried us for 303 miles across these two states starts to divert from it’s regimented East West route that it’s adhered to through Kansas and takes on a more wandering rebellious track through Eastern Colorado.

Even the strict grid layout of the fields that we’ve become so used to start to look less organised and lush crops seem to be replaced with grazing cattle making do on rough pasture.

It is also immediately apparent that Colorado spends less of it’s budget on road repair. As soon as we crossed the state line the 96 highway took on a more cracked and weathered appearance and every five metres or so a crack would stretch across both carriageways like a rib. This would cause our wheels to jar and our bodies to soak up the jolt, which after a few miles starts to become rather tedious! I always thought ribs were for extra pleasure, but these type certainly weren't!

Soon the landscape turned quite barren, Kansas was now a distant memory and the high desert landscape was starting to dominate the skyline. This setting was more than apt for our first Ghost Town, Galatea; deer stood in the road and a few empty houses dotted the landscape, a car sat overgrown in a field giving a feeling of eerie abandonment. A spooky taster but I believe there are bigger ghost towns to come!

Another awe inspiring sight were the miles and miles of empty goods wagons on the train track from Arlington to Sugar City. I’ve seen photos of these from other Trans Am Bloggers so I know they’ve been laid up for some time. Anyone know why?

My first view of the Rocky Mountains ended unceremoniously in a First Aid incident! Whilst staying at Gillian and Mark’s cyclist hostel and small holding in Ordway, they asked me if I wanted to walk the dogs out in the fields so I could see the sun set on the distant Rockies, I of course jumped at the chance.

Whilst crossing the field I stood on a twig stump that had been cut short as part of a fire break;  there was a pop as the sharp twig pierced my Crocs and went into the sole of my foot. I limped back to the house feeling my Croc start to fill with warm blood, panic set in and I thought it could be the end of my Trans Am adventure. After a liberal soaking with iodine and a large sticky plaster the brave soldier was ready to pedal on. I never did get to see the sun set on the Rockies that night!

Leaving Ordway we struggled to find a Diner for an early breakfast stop, but instead the smell of fresh baking lead me to “The Family Bakery”. The toothless old lady running the place offered us free coffee and then we chatted to her whilst perusing the vast array of fresh pastries and donuts. Upon purchasing numerous sugar laden delights for now and “to go” we had to do a double take as they were only 30 odd cents each! This had to be the best donut deal in the west.

We met a few new riders during our early days in Colorado, Brian and Robin had met up on route, both Americans and both fast riders. Brian was riding with one sole purpose, not the usual charitable ride, pre university trip, retirement expedition or mid life crisis, no, Brian was on a shagfest! On arrival in a new town Brian would head straight to the pool to ogle at the female life guards and swimmers, followed by trips to any other place in the vicinity where females may congregate.

All we new about Brian was he had lived in Russia for 8 years and had just returned, occupation unknown, we wondered if this pedalling lethario was a Bond \ Bourne agent with a license to thrill. The one error in his plan was that his “Western Express” route across miles of desert would provide a drought in more than one sense of the word and have little chance of putting a dent in his full to the brim condom pannier! But maybe the free love of his destination, San Francisco, would be more than adequate a prize for his fasting in the desert!!

Robin on the other hand was a young tattooed fitness instructor and probably the more obvious choice for a cycling love God, but he was content with the challenge of the cycling and was keen to take on the mountains and head into the Rockies.

The closer we got to Pueblo the bigger the mountains appeared and our up and coming rest day would be well earned and vital for recharging our hill climbing legs.

Caption Competition 2

After the roaring success of the last Caption Competition, it's time for another!

I'll start the proceedings, use the comments feature below to add your caption. Don't forget my latest blog post is here http://www.midlifecyclist.me.uk/2010/07/rockies-on-horizon.html  

Chillin in Pueblo

By the time we reached Pueblo we had more than earned a rest day and with Pueblo being one of the biggest cities we ride through on the Trans Am it was quite a shock to be in a metropolis that didn’t just have one street!

Whilst there we managed to get our bikes serviced, which in my case was long overdue, but with only a new chain being required my Thorn Nomad and internal Rohloff hub gear was proving it’s worth and attracting much attention from the bike mechanics!

Most of our rest day was spent doing laundry, drooling in the bike shop and relaxing in a cool coffee shop making good use of their WiFi.

After our fourth hour in the coffee shop, justified by drip fed purchasing of drinks and food, our Adventure Cycling Association (ACA) maps spread out on the table caught the eye of an older trendy couple sat in the booth behind us.

Mona and Bill Askwig introduced themselves and then Bill told us that he was one of the original 1976 Bikecentennial riders who first crossed America by bike on the same route we were riding. In our eyes the original 76 riders hold a God like status and to meet one in the flesh was a great honour. Great 1976 pictures here. More on the original ride here.

Bill was also telling me how he was awaiting delivery of a recumbent ICE Trike as he felt it would be good fun to ride at his age and state of health. I told him that ICE were based near me in Falmouth, Cornwall and that I had test ridden one and loved it, he was glad that his trike research had paid off and I could give him positive first hand experience of riding one.

So if you see a guy racing around Pueblo on a cool looking trike at high speed, that will be Bill. Lovely to meet you both.

After a few nights in a dodgy Motel it was time to get back on the trail and start climbing into the Rockies. Our cycling group was now back to me and Tony, Keith had gone on to ride a few days with his brother, Robin had headed on into the Rockies and Brian, who you may remember from my last blog, had carried on west hunting for women!

Onwards and most definitely upwards!

Strange Facebook Coincidence

Now I know this Blog is out of sync and I've still got some catching up to do, I'll get there I promise! But something happened today that was well worthy of a Blog post.


It was a massive day today, Twin Bridges to Jackson Montana. Head winds all the way and Badger and Big Hole Passes to cross 6760 ft and 7360 ft. Having crested Badger Pass I flew down the other side, looking at my maps I saw there was an intersection between the Trans Am and the Great Divide routes.


Now the Trans Am is what I'm on, East to West across America on road and the Great Divide is North to South, Canada to Mexico off road. Occasionally the Great Divide will jump on road for a short section before heading back onto the dirt roads.


Now, before I left there was a group of long distance cyclists who were chatting on Facebook; Sue was one of them and she was planning to ride the Great Divide. I have planted a power bar for her at an intersection between the two routes and given her directions via Facebook to collect it later on.


Passing the intersection today I decided to leave her a rehydration sachet and Facebook her it's location.
Having jammed the sachet behind a sign I carried on down the pass. A group of four cyclists were heading towards me, the lead rider shouts out "Great Divide", I return with a "Trans Am" and continue waving to the three ladies following him..........


Your probably already a step ahead of me on this... but I noticed one of the ladies was riding a Thorn Sterling bike, mmm it's usually mostly Brits who ride Thorn's (and you Chandra!)


I swung my bike round and chased the pack up the hill, the guy spotted me and turned back thinking he may have dropped something.... "Is the lady on the Thorn called Sue" I shout... "Yes".


I pull up next to her and it is indeed Sue from Facebook! We end up chatting fort half an hour, totally bemused by our chance meeting.


So bizarrely in the middle of a road miles from anywhere in Montana USA I bump into someone I only know through Facebook and who five minutes before I had just planted a rehydration sachet for in a road sign!!


I think there is probably more chance of winning the lottery than that happening again!!


Enjoy your ride Sue, great to meet you.

Into The Rockies

We headed out of Pueblo early to avoid the rush hour and the heat, the route taking us quickly up into the foot hills of the Rockies and into Custer County, where the sticker on the County sign stated “Save a Kid, Shoot a Drug Dealer”.

The scenery started looking more like a set for a western movie with rock stacks rising out of the plains, sage brush covering the ground and a landscape that seemed to support only cattle and antelope. 


It had been so long since we had last seen hills that they had a novel attraction, although I didn’t expect that to last long.

A message had come back down the trail from Keith who was a day ahead cycling with his brother. He advised us to cycle the Arkansas River Walk (are ken saw, not are Kansas!) to take us to Canon City and avoid the busy main road. This we did and it was a gem of a cycle path with very few people on it and the tumbling Arkansas river beside us.

The area we were cycling through seemed to be a popular spot for Correctional Facilities (prisons!). A vast one covered acres across the plains outside Florence and allegedly holds some of Americas worst criminals, I gave them all a wave as I cycled by knowing that the freedom I was feeling on the open road was in complete contrast to the razor wired entrapment of that high security hell hole!

Even Canon City 9 miles up the road had a large prison, bizarrely right on the edge of town. The inmates must be able to smell pizza cooking and hear the chink of glasses from restaurants across the street, I think I’d rather be out on the plains!

Leaving Canon City we climbed for 10 miles on the fast highway 50 and with the shoulder strewn with glass and wire from blown radials it wasn’t long before I started to loose air from my front tyre. I nursed it up the hill pumping it up every mile, this wasn’t made easy by the storm that came in and soaked us through to the skin. We also had forest fire warnings flashing at us from the overhead gantries; certainly not the most memorable 10 miles! 

Arriving at the “Mountain Vista RV Park & Cafe” at the top of the hill was a welcome relief and the Hispanic honey of a waitress was a little darling and topped up our coffees endlessly until we thawed out. The RV Park also had Cabins at a reasonable price, so that was that, WiFi, good grub, eye candy and cabins, we were sold!

We also noticed in the cabin opposite ours there was a cyclist who we had seen all the way back in Virginia. Dan was towing a Bobcat trailer behind his mountain bike and was riding a hybrid Trans Am route, part ACA, part his own! We were to spend some time with Dan over the coming days

The name of the RV Park was quite apt, the views from our glorified garden sheds was of the snow capped high peaks and with the cold thin air we really felt we had made it into the Rockies.









Trans Am photos on Flickr - Click Here
Trans Am videos on YouTube - Click here
Follow me on Twitter http://twitter.com/stuwitterer

A Tale of Two Cities!

Within the space of a week I was to see the good and the bad of what America could offer by the way of two very diverse towns! Guffey in Colorado and Jeffrey City in Wyoming.

Let me start with the good, Guffey.

Guffey is one mile off the Trans Am route at 8600 feet, but worth the short steep diversion into the top of the caldera where this small community is based.

Your greeted by a big new bar on the left as you arrive, “The Bull Moose” and an older locals bar The Freshwater Salon, just a block away, both offering good beers, food and full of Stetson wearing friendly locals.

There is also Rita’s Place Cafe, a post office and library; but the place to head for is the Guffey Garage and track down Bill Soux, a real character and a great bloke.

After shaking your hand bill will promptly plant a cold beer in it and precede to tell you all about Guffey. Bill has been instrumental in restoring Guffey’s heritage, mainly it’s rustic cabins which date from the 1880’s and if your planning to stay a night in Guffey Bill will rent you a rustic cabin at a cheap price.

Our cabin was the towns original assay office called the Chow Hall, a basic bunk house with gas lights, an outdoor toilet and a shower down the road at another cabin. Some of the cabins come with a TV/VCR and old black and white western videos. Not the Ritz by any means, but for $12 this piece of gold rush history was ours for the night, although we did also share it with Dan who rolled in later after sharing a large herbal cigarette with Bill!!

Bill can usually be found at his garage, which in itself is a museum of oddities with Bill either building hot rods or signs and tourist gifts out of horse shoes, the bright arc light from his welder lighting up the inside of the dimsy shed.

Guffey is also semi-famous for electing animals Mayor of Guffey, although such an office does not officially exist. According to local folklore, the two main political parties in Guffey are called the "Democats" and the "Repuplicans". The last known Mayor of Guffey is a cat named Monster (elected in 1998). I caught sight of Monster creeping around outside Bill’s garage, he didn’t seem to be wearing any mayororial cloak or chains of office, probably a hindrance when hunting for gofers!

The town is perhaps less famous for the annual Fourth of July Chicken Fly which they were hurriedly preparing for as I passed through. During this holiday event chickens are ejected from a mailbox atop a ten-foot-high platform using loo plungers. Prizes are awarded for distance; Bill’s lady friend assured us that no chickens are hurt during the event and this years other activities will include the “Chicken Drop,” and the “Chicken Rollin’ Alley.”

She showed us round the Town Hall which acts as a museum and as with the rest of the town contains an eclectic mix of the weird and the wonderful including a skeleton riding a rocket! Their is also a Bikecentennial certificate on the wall awarded to Bill for providing accommodation for the many cyclists that made the initial cycle across America back in 1976.

I ensure that any East bound cyclist I meet always gets the “don’t forget to go the Guffey” pitch. I’m not on commission but a place as friendly, eccentric and picturesque as Guffey is a “must” see on the Trans Am.

But in complete contrast Jeffrey City……!

Wikipedia states that.. “Jeffrey City is a former uranium mining boomtown located in Fremont County, in the central part of the U.S. state of Wyoming. The town is famous in Wyoming and the American West as a symbol of a boomtown that went “bust” very quickly, as the mine was shut down in 1982 and over 95% of the inhabitants left the town within 3 years. The population was 106 at the 2000 census, far lower than its onetime population of several thousand people.”

I’d probably guess that the population is nearer 50 now! My Jeffrey City experience was something I’ll never forget…..

To get from Rawlins to Lander Wyoming or vice versa requires a monumental ride of 145 miles that very few could make. This then leaves you to the prey of the limited accommodation that exists on this section of the route with most people resorting to Jeffrey City as a rough half way point.

20 miles out of Jeffrey City we were hit with a bad omen, the sky was darkening rapidly, the wind speed started to pick up and what had been a picturesque sunny ride through a beautiful landscape started to deteriorate rapidly.

Ahead in the distance lightning bolts were striking the ground; I watched as the ACA (Adventure Cycling Association) riders who we had caught up with were leaning their bikes into the storm force winds to avoid being blown off. Then the sleet started, but sleet coming in sideways at high speed feels like someone firing grains of rice at you from a gun, luxury compared to the pain of the marble sized hail stones that came next. Soaked through, travelling at 3mph our bedraggled group battled on knowing that our savoir, Jeffery City, was only 5 miles away!

Up ahead Rob from the ACA group went down hard when the wind blew him off of the hard shoulder, the gravel rash was nasty. Eventually still fighting the storm we spotted the Motel sign, relief at last.

Mmmm but this Motel looked closed and derelict, we cycled on down through this one street town until we arrived at the Split Rock Cafe, the only cafe or business in this whole sorry place.

Before we could even enter the cafe a ferocious dumpy Rottweiler of a woman came out and glared at us, “Don’t park you bisickles against the winda”, welcome to Jeffrey city I thought! She obviously wasn’t a member of the tourist board.

After “Parking Pretty” the six of us filed into the Cafe \ Bar and sat battered and bruised around a table where a more congenial , yet semi-deranged waitress presented us with menu’s.

We later found out from other riders that the menu is a ruse, you can basically have what they’ve got, which can consist of one or two menu items if your lucky, depending on when the delivery truck has been! We must have arrived on delivery day, as the menu had it’s full gamut of deep fried potato products to chose from.

Whilst recouping our days lost calories on the Split Rock Cafe’s fine fare we asked the waitress where the Motel was. “You sickled rat buy it, son thedge tarn”….. The shovelling of fried food and all mastication ceased as if time had stopped…. A look of utter disbelief started to appear on our faces…… “That was the Motel!!?”

We found out that most of the other ACA riders had done the same as us and cycled passed thinking the Top Hat Motel was closed. But we all new that apart from the floor of the former Masonic Lodge or mosquito infested wild camping, the Top Hat was our only option.

With 14 ACA riders pre booked, we weren’t sure if the Top Hat had any spare rooms and on tracking down the owner JT, I immediately went into my best plumy English accent to try and convince JT that we were worthy of a room. “So use Australian” he enquired…”One of these here Adventure Sickling group?”,  “ah not quite”, we just happened to have rolled into town with them!”

After much debate about his Scottish heritage and how he liked the Brits, he agreed on the ACA’s discounted rate and then fleeced us for $60, with that look of someone who knows he owns the only digs in town!

He continued to talk at us and in whispered tones and told us about his secret missions he used to do for Uncle Sam and how during one of these missions a Fatwa was put on his head after he threatened a bunch of 'A' rabs that he would “Wipe his back side with the Koran”!!

He explained he was using Jeffrey City as a hide out; I guessed no 'A' rab in their right mind would dare venture to Jeffrey City. But after the dire service and rip off price I'd like to point out that JT can be found most days in a large work shop to the east of the Motel complex, the location of which is highlighted by the red dot! Go get him...

JT "was" obviously a delusioned nutter of the highest order and was more than likely a Uranium miner than a special agent for Uncle Sam!

We were some of the lucky few that had a key to our room, the ACA girls, Bryn and Amber, had their room ceremoniously opened with a crow bar; not only that but they decided to pitch their tents on the beds to avoid the creepy crawlies that lived in the rooms.

Our room had an en suite flood and bedding that was attached to the headboard with cobwebs, we did on a positive note have two TV’s, neither of which worked as they were analogue and couldn’t pick up a digital signal!

We survived the night but had to face the Split Rock Cafe one more time, to eat breakfast before the long ride to Lander.

Now you would think that a large group of cyclists descending on your town and probably doubling the takings for your cafe that week, would put a smile on your face and step up your customer service to a new level. But no, we found out the Rottweiler with the social graces of a slug was still intent on yelling at people and my three attempts at a “Good Morning” were dismissed with not even an acknowledgment.

Her finally was to try and bill anyone with an electronic gadget on the table an extra $5 for use of her WiFi. There was a mass exodus from the cafe and I can guarantee that no one tipped the staff or paid for WiFi.

This town had been a total exception to the normal friendly way Trans Am cyclists get received in Americas small towns and all those that survive this section on the route will have earned their right of passage.

As we pedalled off the mosquitoes swarmed and attacked in force, tumble weeds skitted across the road and I wondered how long it would be before this God forsaken place turned into another deserted ghost town.

Maybe it’s the Uranium in the water that makes the locals such a “happy” crowd!!!

Trans Am photos on Flickr - Click Here

Trans Am videos on YouTube - Click here
Follow me on Twitter http://twitter.com/stuwitterer